Admitting is the First Step
by R.L. Woodson
Summary: When Dean accidentally thinks too hard about Castiel, the angel comes running. As they always say: admitting it is the first step. Lots of Destiel fluff, for a change.


**Title:** Admitting is the First Step

**Rated:** M

**Summary:** When Dean accidentally thinks too hard about Castiel, the angel comes running. As they always say: admitting it is the first step. Lots of fluff, for a change.

**Warnings:** Nothing but the usual M rated stuff.

Dean wasn't sure when it happened, exactly. Cas had somehow managed to worm his way into Dean's heart, undetected, and take up a large, permanent residence. Sure, Castiel the magnificent had risked his heavenly ass rescuing Dean from the fiery depths of Hell. And he had saved Dean and Sam's ass countless times. And he came the second Dean called, every time. But dammit, Dean liked women! At least, he used to. Since his vacation in Hell, he hadn't pursued anyone. He didn't feel the need. Yes, he was extremely sexually frustrated, but he looked and looked and found... nothing. No winking bartenders or busty waitresses had stirred anything in Dean's gut, not desire or lust or anything remotely close to love... but Cas had.

Dean lay on the itchy motel bed, thinking. Sam sat on the motel couch on his laptop, looking for another case. He had known the angel for a while now, a little over eight months. He remembered when Cas had first appeared in that warehouse, all lightening and angelic justice and fear. Now, if Cas had glared at Dean and growled, "You should show me some respect," Dean would chuckle and pat the angel on the back, telling him to get the stick out of his ass so they could get back to work. And if he did, Cas would tilt his head and look confused and probably glance at his rear, looking for an actual stick. "There are no pieces of wood inserted anywhere inside my vessel, Dean," Cas would say. It made him smile.

If Dean closed his eyes, he could almost imagine Cas was there, sitting on the bed, his tie always slightly askew, his trench coat rumpled even when he smoothed it down, the scruff dotting his cheeks and chin, his impeccably white teeth under parted pink lips, the sparkle in those beautiful blue eyes especially when he looked at Dean, which happened a lot, and Dean could never look away-

"Holy shit! Cas, a little warning please?" Dean's eyes flew open at Sam's exclamation.

"And personal space," Dean mumbled, sitting up quickly. Cas stood over him, a concerned, innocent look on his face.

"Are you alright?" the rough voice made Dean's melt a little.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why do you ask?" he tried to sound gruff.

"You called me. I thought you needed help." Cas' brows furrowed.

Dean looked at him incredulously. "Were you praying, Dean?" Sam's voice floated from the opposite side of the room. Dean couldn't tell if Sam was just surprised or ready to laugh at him. Even soulless Sam thought their relationship was funny.

"No, I wasn't." Dean glared over at his little brother, then turned back to the angel. "Cas, I didn't call you, we're all peachy here."

"You did call me. You're the loudest voice in my head, and when I heard you, I came." Cas made it sound so simple. Dean glanced at Sam, trying to prevent his face from turning red. Sam always teased Dean about his relationship with Cas. He referred to Gabriel's phrase 'homoerotic undertones' more times than Dean liked. But Dean was Dean, the big bad womanizing hunter that traversed the country with his little brother, protecting or destroying the world, depending on the day. And Cas was Castiel, angel of the lord, fighter, guardian, savior, blah blah blah. Every time Sam would joke about Cas being in love with Dean or the other way around, all he could really do was throw a manly "Shut up, bitch," in Sam's direction and bury his head in a book or turn the music up.

"I'm going to, uh, go to the library," Sam cleared his throat and gathered his laptop and papers. He quirked an eyebrow at Dean before closing the door, and Dean glared even after it slammed shut. When only he and Cas remained in the room, most of the tension fled his shoulders. That angel was a paradox; he could cloud Dean's thoughts and steal his breath away with a look, but he also made Dean feel secure and at home.

"Could you really hear me thinking?" Dean asked nervously, scooting to lean on the headboard of the bed.

Cas did that damn head tilt thing. "I could hear your thoughts directed at me, and I heard they were strong. I thought maybe you were in a situation where you couldn't speak, or required my help with stealth." Cas sat on the bed near Dean, not too close, but at the same time, not close enough.

"And you popping in over my bed is stealth?" Dean smiled at the contemplative expression on the angel's face.

"I suppose stealth isn't my strongest attribute." Dean chuckled, and he saw Cas smile at Dean's laugh like it was a reward for doing something right. As Dean noticed this, his smile faded. The smile on Cas' face faded too. "You aren't visibly injured, but something is wrong."

"I'm fine, Cas, I don't need a therapy session today, thank you," Dean brushed Cas' inquiry off under the piercing blue stare.

Cas didn't even blink, like he disregarded Dean's statement all together. "Tell me."

It was difficult to refuse Cas. Some of the angel's comments made him want to punch the guy, but overall, he was a good listener. When they were alone, and only then, Dean told Cas about everything weighing him down. When he was worried about Sam, he told Cas. When he missed his dad or his mom, he told Cas. Hell, when he just felt like shit for no reason, he told Cas, because Cas appeared every time and demanded to know why Dean was sad. And he would never, _never,_ admit that he let Cas comfort him.

It had only happened a few times, when things seemed beyond saving. Dean would be holding it together perfectly fine, and then he'd be crying, big, unmanly sobs. Cas would pull Dean into his arms and rub his back, imparting words of wisdom that never really made sense. He knew Cas just quoted Confucius at him because he didn't know what else to say, but it wasn't the words that helped, it was the fact that Cas was there and wouldn't leave until Dean was strong enough to leave the motel room and join Sam in the investigation, or eat greasy food, or at least drive the Impala around. Though Cas' people skills were rusty, he graciously didn't mention those encounters to Sam.

Dean snapped back to the present as Cas moved closer to him. "Please." The word was a statement, not a question.

Dean sighed. What's the worst thing that could happen if he told him the truth? _Cas could leave and never come back._ Okay, a realistic situation, given the angel's lack of knowledge on particular emotions. _Cas could not understand and blame it on their profound bond and hopefully not ask Sam what Dean was babbling about._ "You make me feel... strange. Really strange," Dean mumbled. That was a start. He rubbed his eyes, trying to pick out the right words. Words were hard. When he opened his eyes again, Cas looked dejected.

"I... I'm sorry, Dean. I can go, I'm sorry to bother-"

"No!" Dean grabbed Cas' arm as he made to get up. Cas looked inquisitive again. _Dammit. _Dean swung himself up to sit next to the angel on the bed. "I don't really know how to say this. I'm not so good with feelings, as you know," Dean muttered towards the ground. He should just tell him. Seize the day, right? Who knows how many days they had left.

"You are anxious." Dean felt a strong hand on his back, warmth radiating through his spine. He relaxed into Cas' touch. Cas cared about him, at least a little. Enough not to just up and leave. He was concerned about Dean's emotional health and wanted to help. Care like that, from someone other than Sam... it was one of the reasons that Dean craved the angel so much. Cas knew exactly what Dean needed, even if Dean didn't. "Just try." The gravelly voice was soft.

"Okay, I'll try." Dean stared at the ugly motel carpeting. "Since you saved me, or raised me from perdition, or whatever, I've felt different than I usually do. I don't hook up with random girls at bars, or hit on anyone from our cases. I don't hit on anyone, ever." Dean laughed humorlessly. "It's like I don't even want to anymore, you know?"

"I don't believe I know, actually," Cas stated.

"Thanks, that helps." Dean sighed. "I just- I need you, Cas. In ways that I didn't know I did. And ways that I know you don't understand, what with you being an angel." Cas' eyes widened, but he said nothing. "Do you understand what I mean? I'm trying to be delicate here." Dean's look pleaded with Cas.

"I..." Cas trailed off. He looked... nervous? Cas had become more perceptive in his time on Earth, maybe he did understand. The angel cleared his throat. "Could you expand on that? My knowledge is lacking on this, uh..." the angel fell silent, staring at the bed comforter.

"I want you, Cas," Dean blurted, green eyes locked on blue.

Cas looked confused again. "Want me to do what?"

"Dammit, Cas, I love you! I want to be with you!" Dean swallowed, cheeks flushed from the outburst. There, it was done. He watched the blush rise to the angel's cheeks and the blue eyes widen.

"You want me like..." Cas trailed off again, but Dean saw the understanding in his eyes.

"Yeah," Dean whispered, turning his head back to the floor. "Like that. Just, please don't leave us, okay? I'm sorry I made it weird, but you always save our ass and even if you never want to speak to me again, I just want to keep Sam safe and help people, okay? So just-" Dean moved to get up, but an iron grip on his arm pulled him forcefully back down on the bed.

Cas' bright blue eyes bore into his with determination. Dean looked at him, incredulously. "I have felt so many human emotions: desire, care, concern, affection, love, all directed solely on you." Love? "They come directly from my grace, these feelings. If I decided never to speak to you again, I would die every day." There was a fierceness in his eyes that Dean only saw when the angel was angry. Or smiting something. "Do you believe me, Dean?" His eyes softened.

"You love me?" Dean blinked rapidly, his brain was still stuck at the beginning of Cas' little monologue.

The angel nodded. "Since I first held your soul in my hands. I may have marked you," Cas' hand hesitantly rested on Dean's shoulder, exactly where he knew the handprint was, "but you will forever be imprinted on me." The angel's hand came up to Dean's face and wiped away a tear that Dean didn't know was there.

To Dean's surprise, the hand stayed there. "I am entirely unexperienced with this kind of interaction," he said, voice suddenly nervous. "But may I kiss you, Dean?"

He didn't give the angel an answer. Instead, he put a hand on the back of Cas' neck and pulled the angel's mouth onto his. Dean relished the contact of Cas' soft lips, and Cas' grip tightened on his shoulder. After a moment, Dean's tongue swept along Cas' bottom lip and the angel gasped, giving Dean room to slide his tongue into his mouth and along Cas'.

A strangled noise came from Cas' throat and Dean pulled away. "You okay?"

Cas put a hand to his stomach. "What is this?" Dean grinned at him. "I feel warm here and... tingly. What is happening?"

"I think that's called arousal, Angelcake," Cas' eyes darkened at the pet name and attached his lips back to Dean's forcefully, causing the two to tumble back on the bed.

The kissing grew gentle as Cas explored. Dean should have known; Cas was never a normal angel. He was curious, with more human emotions than Dean would have ever believed. His fingers ran through Dean's hair and along his jaw, which made Dean sigh happily. Then Cas stopped the kissing altogether. Dean opened his mouth to ask why, but Cas was staring at his body, fingers trailing along the neckline of Dean's button up shirt. "Can I...?" Dean nodded, pushing down a stupid grin as the angel delicately unbuttoned each white button. Finally, the red plaid fell away to reveal the chiseled chest and stomach of Dean Winchester. Dean shuddered as the fingers trailed along the lines there.

"You look like the first draft," Cas murmured, gazing at Dean dreamily.

"Huh?" Dean eloquently asked, distracted by his fingers.

"When God created man, his first draft before Adam was perfect in every way, impossibly so. It was beautiful, like you," Cas murmured. Dean's mouth hung open. No one had ever spoken like this to him before. The fingers found the few scars Dean had acquired since he was brought back from Hell. "These make you more beautiful." The hands were impossibly soft over Dean's skin, and he held back a moan. "God made man imperfect, and therefore you are imperfect, but in the most perfect way."

Dean could only watch Cas as he stopped moving along Dean's skin. Cas threw a nervous look at Dean before leaning down to kiss a scar near his anti-possession tattoo. Dean couldn't help but hum his satisfaction of the touch. Cas smiled again, like the noise was a gift for doing something right. Dean's hands came up to play with Cas' hair as he peppered kisses over Dean's torso. When he got to Dean's belt buckle, he stopped, the deer-in-the-headlights look plastered on his face.

"C'mere," Dean breathed, pulling the angel up to him. "Not yet," he mumbled against Cas' lips. More confidently, Cas' hand came up to cup Dean's cheek and thread his fingers through his short hair.

He let his human maneuver him with his back to the bed, Dean hovering over him. Cas' trench coat appeared on the floor next to Dean's own plaid shirt and the angel stared, transfixed at Dean as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the shirt. Cas had never been concerned with the level of attractiveness of his vessel, but now he desperately wanted Dean to think he looked okay.

Dean's hungry eyes brought a blush right back to Cas' cheeks. "I'm not good at words, but," Dean ran a hand down the perfect chest, "if I'm almost perfect, you're freakin' impossible." Jimmy Novak was a runner, lean and toned. When Cas had taken him as a vessel, his grace healed all scars and blemishes on this body as well as gave it a sort of... glow. A moan escaped the angel at Dean's touch; it sent sparks somewhere deep inside him. Dean drank in every bit of Cas, only then realizing that the familiar face below him was actually another species, a superior being. Dean could almost _feel_ the angel under his skin. "Cas," Dean murmured reverently.

"Yes?" the angel's breath hitched.

"Just saying your name, that's all," Dean draped himself over Cas, the skin contact heating both men up.

"It sounds beautiful in your voice," Cas gasped in his ear as Dean nipped his neck. After sucking a red mark into the soft skin and receiving minor scratches to his back for it, Dean heard the angel whisper, "Dean, please, I need..."

"I got you," Dean kissed his jaw and moved towards the angel's pants. The button was easy to unclasp, and the dark fabric pulled away to reveal black briefs, which made Dean smile. Dean pulled off his own jeans to level the playing field. He stopped.

"Cas," he saw the dark shadows behind Cas' back quivering. "Are those your wings?"

Cas' blush deepened. "Yes, they're very sensitive, but it is considered rude to show them until the actual intercourse begins." He avoided eye contact until Dean tilted his face towards him.

"Show me."

Cas sat up after a tense moment, Dean still straddling his lap, and very slowly black feathery wings expanded from his back, shiny and perfect. His wingspan took up the entire room and bent on the walls. "Wow," Dean breathed. "They're amazing."

"Really?" Cas looked at him, hopeful.

Dean nodded, reaching out to stroke the feathers near the angel's shoulder. "Ahhh," Cas breathed.

"You like that?" Dean grinned. Cas nodded. Dean slowly slid his boxer-clad erection over Cas' while his fingers trailed across the other wing. The angel gasped, arching up into the hunter.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch. Dean captured Cas' lips in a kiss, one hand in his dark hair and one hand still playing with the black feathers. He grinded into Cas slowly and tenderly, giving his angel as much pleasure as he could without scaring him. Cas whimpered, hips thrusting up in time with Dean's. "I- Dean I'm-"

"Let it go, baby," Dean kissed his neck as Cas orgasmed under him, face screwed up in the best way and wings fluttering softly. Dean rutted against him until his body went completely limp, wings relaxed on the ground.

Cas' breathing was heavy still, his face beet red. Dean kissed him slowly, then got up, ignoring his own painfully hard erection. He could take care of that later. Knowing Cas, he would want to go slow and take time to strengthen their profound bond or something, which Dean was okay with. He would never push Cas into anything. "Can I get you cleaned up, Angelcake?" Dean grinned at the sprawled angel.

"Ungh," Cas replied, voice not working yet. The huge wet spot on Cas' briefs looked pretty uncomfortable, but before Dean could say anything about it, Cas waved his hand and his underwear was gone, revealing a large, still fully erect cock. "Much better," he mumbled, closing his eyes again.

Dean almost choked on his own saliva. That was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, and the fact that Cas let him see him without any prompting made Dean's own cock twitch. He palmed his own erection, trying to release some of the tension there. The quiet moan alerted Cas to Dean's situation.

The angel sat up. "Take those off," he commanded, and Dean immediately complied. He tried not to touch himself, but his hand ignored his brain and he stroked himself gently, very turned on by Cas' commands. "Come here," Cas commanded again, "I want to do that."

Dean stood in front of Cas, who now sat up on the bed. Without any reservations, Cas took Dean's already leaking cock in his hand and repeated Dean's own movements, experimentally twisting his fist at the head. Dean's head lolled backwards as pleasure shot through him. Cas let go and Dean looked down at him, wanting so much more but unwilling to push it.

"I want you to be mine, Dean. Completely."

Dean's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Cas wanted to have sex, right now after possibly his first orgasm ever, with Dean. "Anything you want," Dean murmured, wide eyed at the angel. Cas maneuvered Dean under him this time, taking control. He mimicked Dean's movements from earlier, kissing and nipping and caressing until suddenly, Dean's boxers disappeared completely. He gasped at the sudden contact of their bare erections. A part of his brain said, _Damn angel mojo,_ and another part said, _thank god for angel mojo._ Cas smiled. Every sound Dean made for him felt like a reward.

After more kissing, he suddenly sat up. "You need preparation, correct?"

Dean blinked a few times, the meaning of Cas' words slowly seeping into his mind. "Yes, lube is in the drawer," Dean motioned vaguely next to the bed, and it was already in Cas' hand. Dean never bottomed. In all of his many experiences, he topped, but it never even crossed his mind to argue with the angel. "I've never bottomed before," he admitted out loud.

Cas' eyes widened. "I will be your first?" he said in awe.

Dean nodded, nervous but not afraid. "I trust you, Cas."

Dean knew he made the right choice when Cas smiled at him like that. Love radiated from the angel, and tears threatened to spill from Dean's eyes again, but he held them back. Cas drizzled some lube on his middle finger and stopped, nervousness crossing the angel's features once again. "I know the biological steps for this, but, um."

"I'll help you," Dean smiled and pushed a pillow under his hips quickly, spreading his legs. That was easiest for the guys he had previously slept with. Same with him, right? "You see it?" This was instructional, not dirty talk, and Dean felt incredibly awkward.

"Yes," Cas breathed, eyes locked on the puckered pink hole.

"Alright, put that in." He gestured to Cas' finger. "But be gentle. It's supposed to hurt a little, but don't worry, I'll be fine." He half smiled at Cas, relaxing his muscles.

"I don't want to hurt you," Cas looked confused again.

"It'll feel good in a second, promise. Please." Cas nodded and concentrated on the task at hand. The sticky finger stroked Dean's hole a few times before slowly pushing in to the first knuckle. It felt strange to Dean, but he bore through it as the rest of Cas' finger slipped inside. The burn hurt a little, but he had endured Alistair's torture for thirty years. He could handle a little burn.

"Is this right?" Cas asked, the picture of concentration.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, now pull it out a little and push it back in."

Cas complied, and the more he did it, the less weird it felt. He watched the angel's face, a mixture of concentration and awe across the features. "Now add another, it needs to stretch, and- ahh!" Cas' long finger brushed the bundle of nerves inside him and he arched his hips, pushing down on Cas' fingers.

"What? What's wrong?" Cas looked a little frightened.

"Do it again, please Cas, so good," he babbled, tingled shooting up his spine. Cas angled his fingers again, slipping another into Dean and pressing that spot. Dean whimpered, clawing at the bedsheets.

"Stretch," Cas murmured, watching Dean's face. He scissored his fingers, urged by Dean's expressions. Nonsense syllables fell from Dean's lips as a third finger was added.

"Cas, stop," Dean gasped, pushing on his hand.

"What's wrong?" Cas looked worried. Again.

"I, uh, don't want to finish just yet. You're pretty good at that." Dean swallowed.

"Okay," he murmured, smiling under Dean's bit of praise. The lube spread easily onto the angel's leaking cock, and it soon touched Dean's entrance. "Like this?"

"Yes, please Cas," Dean pleaded, pulling the angel towards him. Cas entered Dean slowly, seeing stars as he pushed to the hilt. Dean whimpered, one hand tangling in Cas' hair and one buried in his wing.

"Ohhhh," Cas moaned. Dean bucked his hips up, silently asking for more, and the angel obliged. The human instinct took over and Cas rolled his hips out and into Dean, earning breathy moans from the hunter.

After a few minutes, Dean felt warmth pooling in his stomach already. "'M close, Cas," he gasped, digging his nails into the angel's scalp.

"Not yet," Cas growled, pulling himself upwards. One strong hand came to rest on Dean's engorged cock and one lay flat on his chest, over his heart, and dug in. Tingles spread through Dean's chest where Cas' hand lay, his vision blurring. The blue of Cas' eyes washed over Dean, intensifying his pleasure tenfold. He was vaguely aware of Cas' hand speeding up on his cock and his prostate hit with every thrust. The sense of love and care and pleasure overwhelmed him, and the cloud carried his orgasm for what felt like ten minutes.

He came down slowly, vision returning in time to see Cas' own expression of pleasure as he came. The angel collapsed onto Dean, who found just enough strength to wrap his arms around him. Their breathing synced up, slowing together as their heartbeats returned to normal. Cas pulled out of Dean slowly and rolled off him, both men covered in sticky come. One wave of the angel's hand and it was gone.

"That," Cas murmured, "was the best I've ever felt, since the dawn of time."

Dean chuckled. "That was heaven, pun intended." He propped himself up on an elbow. "What did you do? I felt like... the end lasted for ten minutes. I think I passed out and everything."

Cas brushed his fingers over Dean's chest. "I touched your soul." Dean's eyes widened, the skin still sensitive. "Usually, touching ones soul is incredibly painful, but when my grace and your soul reached out during our intercourse, it made it a pleasurable experience."

Dean's head fell back on the pillow. "You can say that again."

"Pleasurable experience." Dean turned to roll his eyes, but Cas was smiling. He made a joke. Dean grinned and kissed Cas again, slowly and languidly.

"Oh, sorry about the feathers," Dean noticed a few handfuls of dark feathers littering the ground.

Cas smiled. "You pulling my feathers felt better than I thought it would."

They lay in silence for several moments, limbs entwined, staring at each other. "Can we do that again?" Cas murmured.

"You're going to have to give me a little more time, Angelcake. Another orgasm like that so soon could kill me."

"Later, then," Cas kissed Dean's forehead.

Sam returned to the motel room a few hours later. Cas was still there, sitting on the couch while Dean channel surfed on his bed. "Hello, Sam," Cas nodded to the younger Winchester.

"Hey Sammy," Dean called, not looking up from the television.

Sam looked around the room. It looked just like it had when he left. "So did you figure out the volume problem with angel radio?" he asked, setting down the laptop.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Dean mumbled, flipping to a reality tv show. "S'all good."

Sam then noticed one black feather on the ground. "What's this?" he bent to pick it up.

"It's a feather from my wings. We-" Dean shot him a look. Cas cleared his throat. "I needed to stretch them. They were sore."

"Okay..." Sam handed the feather back to Cas who dropped it into a pocket of his trench coat. "Anyway, I found something that looks like our kind of case. There's this hotel that's I thought was haunted, but the victims were drained of blood, and-" he stopped short. A bottle of lube sat on the bedside table next to Dean's bed.

"Definitely getting my own room now," Sam muttered before walking straight out the door. Cas grinned and Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.


End file.
